Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

27. Nichol

Chapter 27

Nichol

You Up?

T he house-phone rings through the stillness, drowning faint voices coming from the TV in the living room upstairs, interrupting the sleep about to claim Nichol for the night.

“Hello?” Anthony answers. “Hang on… Nichol… You up?”

“Yeah.” Nichol responds groggily, peeling himself out of bed and trudging up the stairs in boxer-briefs and a thin t-shirt, assaulted by a rash of goosebumps overtaking his bare arms and legs.

Anthony passes him the receiver, and drops back into his chair. Katie is curled up in a blanket on the sofa, both of them staring into the flickering glow, from the flatscreen mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” Nichol questions the ancient relic from his childhood, pressed to his ear, trying to imagine who might be contacting him through the landline.

“Hey.” Teddy’s voice is low and hoarse.

“Teddy?” Nichol wipes the sleepiness from his cheeks under the heel of his palm.

“Sorry to bug you… I tried calling Gretchen, but there’s no answer at her place.”

“What’s the matter?” Nichol’s brows furrow and his incisor catches on his lower lip.

“I’ve had a little accident… and I need your help . . .”

“What?” Nichol interrupts, sobering from near-sleep’s intoxication.

“I hate to ask…”

Nichol’s pulse quickens in his temples from the blood rush coursing up his neck, from accelerating beats in his chest. “Teddy, what’s going on?”

“I crashed the truck… I’m fine. I’m at the hospital, but I’m stuck here.“ He clears his throat. “Can you open up the shop in the morning? There’s a key tucked into a secret pocket up under the awning, over the window… I probably forgot to lock up anyway,” he rambles.

“I’m coming tonight.” Nichol blurts.

“Nichol, no… It’s a mess out there, I’ll get a cab in the morning.”

“I’m coming.”

“What’s the matter?” Katie rasps over the TV show.

“I need to borrow your van.” Nichol blurts.

“Right now?” Katie crinkles her face, looking between him and the window.

“Yes, Teddy was in an accident.”

“Is he okay?” Anthony asks.

Nichol shrugs, returning his attention to the time-warping relic with Teddy on the other side. “I’m on my way.”

“Don’t…” Teddy starts.

Nichol clicks the receiver into its mount.

“Where are your keys?”

“I’ll get them, put some clothes on.” Katie throws her blanket aside and hops off the couch.

Nichol scales the stairs, skipping several at a time, gripping the handrail and diving into the basement. He collects the pair of worn jeans he’d stripped off and hung over the back of an old office chair, then a sweater he’d set aside for morning. Stuffing his limbs into the outfit, and stepping into his boots, before stomping back up the stairs with floundering laces, he meets Katie at the middle landing.

“Here.” She shoves the keyfob at him. “Be careful.”

Nichol grabs his wool coat off a hook and rushes through the door, clicking the auto start button with his shaky thumb and jumping into the driver's seat before the vehicle has even managed to fully wake.

The road was recently plowed and salted, but the dark tunnel of frenzied flakes flying in front of the headlights, forces him to drive at a snail’s pace, making the short trip feel endless. He breathes deeply, in and out, to calm his Impatient pulse and steady his shaking hands.